A Close Friendship
by Anonymous Eli
Summary: When Ben and Riley are trapped in a cave-in, Ben must find a way to distract his claustrophobic friend.
1. Chapter 1

A/N: Hey, everyone! I know it's been forever, but I have finally started another story! I hope you will all enjoy it =D. For those of you who haven't read my other stories, I will warn you that this contains minor references to _Happy Birthday? _and _Phobia_, but you don't have to read them to understand this (as of yet . . . this story is far from complete). For the purposes of this chapter, suffice it to say that Riley is extremely claustrophobic.

And now, on with the story!

Disclaimer: I don't own National Treasure. Disney does. Sadly, that's the way things are =P.

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CHAPTER ONE

_Ben_

For a moment, there was only silence.

After the deafening rumble of falling rock, the sudden stillness was disorienting. Debris still rained down from the ceiling, and in the darkness and dusty air, I couldn't see my own hands in front of my face. Rolling gingerly to the side, mindful of my bruised body, I brushed off my jacket and tried to stand. Pain shot up my leg, and I quickly sat back down, coughing in the swirling dust. And then I remembered.

"Riley!"

No answer.

"Riley, where are you?!"

Still nothing. Panic swept over me. How close had he been to me when the ceiling came down? Had he gotten out of the way in time?

"Can you hear me? Answer me, Riley!"

My voice sounded muffled, distant, and every bit as terrified as I felt. If anything had happened to the kid . . .

I got to my hands and knees, groping around blindly in the darkness. My left leg protested the movement, but I could get around well enough, so it probably wasn't broken.

Even if it had been, at that point I doubt it would have stopped me.

My hands brushed against broken stone and plunged into puddles of water and then finally touched cloth. A sleeve. I drew in a ragged breath; my heart was pounding in my ears. "Riley?" I asked. My fingers slid down to his wrist, feeling for the pulse I prayed was there . . .

It was.

Relief swept over me so strongly that I felt lightheaded, but the moment didn't last. I had no idea how badly Riley was hurt, or if there was a way out. If the brief glimpse I'd gotten of the back wall before the ceiling fell was any indication, there wasn't. Perfect. The only possible good thing was that Abigail had been shining a flashlight into an adjacent cave when Riley and I were having our near-death experience, which meant she was safe and calling for help. I had no doubt she would be pulling at the boulders herself until someone arrived.

My hand hadn't left Riley's arm, so I felt it when he stirred a little. "Riley?" I encouraged. "Come on, wake up."

There was a groan, and then a gasp. Riley tensed under my hand. "Ben?!"

I frowned. Riley's voice was pained and charged with panic. "Yeah," I said evenly, hoping he would take my cue and calm down. "Where are you hurt?" When he didn't answer me right away, I feared the worst. "Riley?" I prompted.

I could hear his breathing accelerating, but at least he responded. "Just my head. Hit it on the ground, I think."

I winced in sympathy. "Do you feel sick?" I asked, trying to determine whether he had a concussion without actually seeing him.

"Yes, but I—I don't think it's from me getting better acquainted with the ground." His voice was getting panicky. "Ben, do you have your flashlight?"

"No. I gave it to Abigail."

"Is there . . . a way out?"

I sighed. "I don't think so, but—"

Before I could even finish, Riley sat up, crawling towards the pile of rubble. "Riley!"

I could hear the sounds of frantic digging in the dark. "Riley, there's no way you're going to be able to dig through. Do you hear me? Riley!" The only answer was the ominous sound of shifting boulders, and I realized we might have another problem. A much more imminent one. "Riley, stop digging! Stop! You're going to get us killed!"

He continued on as if he hadn't heard.

"Listen to me!" I said, crawling painfully over to the source of the noise. "Do you have any idea how small this cave is? You're going to collapse the rubble on us! Riley!" I grabbed his shoulder, trying to calm him down, but Riley reacted violently to the touch. He shoved me roughly away, and before I could catch my balance, I fell on my injured leg. I couldn't entirely stop the moan of pain that forced its way out.

The digging immediately stopped.

"Ben?" The voice was fearful.

"Riley?" I gasped, still in shock.

"I'm . . . I'm so sorry, Ben . . . I . . . I'm sorry!"

Now Riley was touching _my_ shoulder. "It's okay," I said. I could feel his hand trembling.

"No, it's not. How badly are you hurt? I can't believe I didn't even ask! I'm sorry . . ."

The guilt and terror in his voice was palpable. I hurried to reassure him. "I'm okay. Just my leg. I might have fractured it or something when the ceiling came down."

"Ben . . . I'm so sor—"

"No more apologies, Riley," I said firmly. "I'm going to be fine. So are you. Calm down."

There was a moment of silence, where all I could hear was Riley's gasps and my own steady breathing. My leg had begun to throb like I was being stabbed repeatedly with a knife, but it was Riley's pain that most worried me. My concern only escalated when he finally spoke again.

"I c-can't," he whispered. "Ben, I thought I was over this. I'm not. I can't breathe. Ben."

I could hear the plea behind those words: _Get us out of this, Ben. _

I wished I could.

More than anything, I wished I could.

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A/N: So where are Riley and Ben, anyway? What's going on with Abigail? When does the angst really begin? Review to find out! I love hearing what you think =D


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: Thank you so much to my reviewers! You are all awesome! That being said, please don't kill me for the cliffie you are about to experience.

Disclaimer: I don't own National Treasure. Sad, isn't it?

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CHAPTER TWO

_Riley_

To say that I was panicking was an understatement. To say that that was an understatement was an understatement. I was shaking and my thoughts were scattered in a hundred different directions. What if we ran out of air? What if Abby had gotten lost or hurt trying to help us? What if Ben was worse than he was letting on, and seriously injured? What if I had left the water running in the bathroom before we left for vacation?

I tried to stop breathing so fast and get a grip. I was making my headache worse, and the last thing I needed was to throw up. _You're fine_, I told myself sternly. _There's plenty of oxygen, Abby will be back soon, Ben says he's okay, and it's Ben's water bill, not yours. So stop it._

I took the deepest breath I could and tried to hold it, but that made my head hurt, too. I really hoped I didn't have a concussion, but experience was letting me know I was kidding myself. I crawled over to the opposite wall, trying to release some adrenaline.

"Riley?" Ben's voice was concerned. I had to say something, or he would only worry more, but I couldn't think of a single thing that wouldn't scream "I'm having a panic attack."

"Riley." This time, the word was a command. _Calm down_. "Talk to me, okay?"

"About what?" My voice was choked off. I clenched my hands into fists to try and keep them from trembling.

"Computers or chocolate cake or my car, if you have to. Anything."

That took me by surprise. "I'm allowed . . . to insult your car?" I gasped.

I could picture Ben's grimace. "I didn't say 'insult,'" he complained, but I could tell that he was happy I responded.

"What . . . else would I have to say about your car?"

"I don't know. Maybe that it's a classic?"

I snorted. "A c-classic _1993 Volvo_?"

"It's an '94."

"It's an artifact," I said.

"Doesn't that seem appropriate?"

I groaned. "Whatever, Ben. I just don't get it."

"Get what?"

"You and old things. Your obsession with caves. And dark holes. And tombs. It's a little creepy, you know?" The distraction hadn't lasted long. I felt the darkness smothering me again, but Ben went right on.

"I'm not interested in the _caves_," he said. "I'm interested in what's inside them. Actually, it's more of the _history_ of the things inside them . . ."

I hugged my knees to my chest. "So go to the library. I'm sure they've got all kinds of books on the Pueblo Indians. Or I could Google them for you, and we could avoid all these fun little trips in the dark."

Ben must have heard the edge in my voice. "Riley, are you okay?"

_No! _my thoughts screamed, but I said,"Never better. Let's just get out of here before I start thinking we can't."

"We're going to be fine."

"S-sure, Ben."

"Really. We'll get out of this, kid."

I didn't even bother to protest at being called a kid.

_NTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNT_

_Ben_

I knew I was losing Riley to the panic again when his voice started to tremble and he didn't respond to my last comment. It was time for a new tactic.

"We should search the back of the cave for a way out," I suggested. I was sure Riley would be only too happy to comply, and it would keep him occupied for a while.

"I thought you said . . . there was no way out." Riley definitely sounded worse. I could hear him hyperventilating again.

"I only got a glimpse of the back wall. Maybe I missed something." It was highly unlikely that there really was a way out, but Riley needed to move, needed to feel like he was doing something to get us out. I knew that waiting was just making him more anxious.

"Okay," Riley said. "Where d-do I start?"

"Over by me. Feel around for cracks in the wall."

I heard him crawl over beside me, displacing loose rocks and splashing into puddles. "Ugh," he complained. "Now m-my favorite hoodie's soaked."

I laughed, but I knew the feeling. I was wet, too. In fact, I was sitting in a puddle. I tried to move over a little to a dry spot, but pain stabbed my leg again and I decided against moving. My left leg was pins and needles from the knee down. I groaned.

Riley stopped moving. "Ben?" he asked, his voice decidedly nervous.

"I'm fine," I reassured him "Just wet and cold. My leg's fallen asleep."

"I still have my backpack. You can use my blanket." I smiled, noticing that the shake had left Riley's voice. Maybe worrying about me was the best distraction available.

"Sounds good. I hope it's not wet, too."

I heard Riley move away, presumably to find his bag. After a moment, I heard him muttering under his breath. "Crap!" he suddenly exclaimed. "Everything in here is ruined! Soaked! I had perfectly good food in here from breakfast, and that blanket, and my iPod. This vacation just keeps getting better and better!"

"Be glad it wasn't your laptop," I told him, smiling.

"If I get back to the hotel and my laptop's been stolen, I'm never going to speak to you again Ben," Riley threatened, and then added, "Except to choose the next trip, so it doesn't end up in disaster like this."

"Okay. Your choice next time. Where are we going?"

"Someplace dry. And not history-related in any way. How about the Apple Store?" Riley moved back over to me, and started feeling the walls as I had instructed. As he edged along the wall, he continued to suggest other destinations, which got progressively more technology related. Suddenly there was a tremendous splash, and Riley stopped talking.

"Riley?" I said.

"Ugh! I just stepped into a hole full of water. I'm wet up to my knees. First my hoodie, now my Converse . . ."

But I had stopped listening after "hole full of water," a horrible thought occurring to me. When Riley and I had first stepped into the cave, it was as dry as the baking desert outside. If Riley had just stepped into knee-deep water . . .

"Ben?" Riley asked, confused by my sudden silence.

I was still too shocked to answer him. How long had it been since the ceiling had fallen? Half an hour? Maybe less? It would take Abigail at least two hours to get back to her car and maybe fifteen minutes from there to drive to a place with cell phone reception.

In the very least, that was four and a half hours for her to come back with help.

If there was already a foot and a half of water filling the divots in the ground and making puddles on the cave floor . . .

Riley and I would drown before help could arrive.

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A/N: Um, yeah. I know I have still kept the scenario a little vague, but that's intentional. Oh, and just as a reminder, you don't get an update if you kill me =D. Please review!


	3. Chapter 3

A/N: I offer my sincerest apologies for the lateness of this update. I had no intention of leaving all of my WONDERFUL readers hanging for so long. Thanks so much to every single person who has reviewed. Your imput is so valuable to me =D

Disclaimer: I am the master of Disney . . . in an alternate universe only.

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CHAPTER THREE

_Ben_

"Ben?" Riley asked again, obviously worried by my continued silence. "What's wrong?"

What was I supposed to say? _Nothing, kid. You're on the verge of a panic attack, my leg is on fire, we're trapped in a cave, and, oh, we will probably drown before Abigail can get back. But don't worry, Riley. I've got everything under control. _

Control.

That was probably what bothered me most about our situation. I was supposed to be the one who knew what to do, the one who got his friends out of trouble. Waiting for others to act was not something I particularly enjoyed. Or had ever done.

"B-ben?" Riley said, splashing over to me. "Are . . . are you okay?"

Riley would know if I lied to him, and I was no good at bluffing anyway. The kid was smart; he would notice the rising water. Soon.

But I still couldn't bring myself tell him the truth of our situation, because I knew what it would do to Riley. I had seen him fall completely apart once, and it was not a memory I enjoyed thinking about. Maybe it was selfish, but I couldn't see him like that again.

So I decided to tell the truth. About the question he just asked.

"My leg hurts."

Riley sounded intensely worried. "Is it w-worse than before?"

Until now, I hadn't thought about it much. "A little," I told him honestly. From the knee down, my left leg was throbbing; sometimes, it went a little numb and then started hurting again with a vengeance. The puddle I was sitting in wasn't helping any.

"How long d-do you think it's been? S-since Abby left, I mean."

"Maybe half an hour, forty-five minutes."

"Okay."

I could almost hear him calculating Abigail's distance in his head. He was silent for a very long time.

"Riley?"

The silence persisted. It was my turn to worry. "Riley?" I asked again.

"H-how long do we have?"

"What do you mean?"

"Until Christmas," he said caustically. "C-come on, Ben! How long until the cave fills up with water?"

Sometimes Riley was too smart for his own good. I sighed. "I don't know. Not too long."

"Then I'll k-keep looking for a way out." I heard him splash away again.

I blinked. That was not the response I had expected at all. "You okay?" I asked.

"Sure, Ben, if you are."

Ah. Riley probably believed I was being brave about my leg and that I was very badly hurt. If there was one thing I knew about him, it was that he would do anything for his friends. Anything. Even if it involved dark holes and creepy tombs and everything in between. And now he had decided that he was going to get us out of this. Everything else, like deep-seated phobias and the condition of his precious iPod, was secondary.

"Riley," I said quietly, listening to him slogging through the puddles.

"Hmm?"

"Thanks."

"F-for what?"

"For coming on this trip."

"Yeah. I'm r-really starting to enjoy it," he said, sarcasm practically dripping from the words. "You know, this is actually pretty low key for one of your trips. The last two involved high-speed c-car chases and being held at gunpoint."

"That's what I mean. You knew this was going to be a disaster, and you came anyway."

"It was a favor for y-your mom. I'm getting chocolate chip cookies out of it."

I laughed. "Is _that_ what she said to you? You get cookies and I get 'to see fascinating pre-Columbian historical sites.' Face it, Riley, you're the favorite."

I could imagine Riley's embarrassed smile. I knew how much even those casual words meant to him. "It's not like I have much competition," he finally said.

I smiled, glad to hear that he was joking. "I don't know. Mom _loves_ Abigail."

"That's because Abby has this, like, aura. It's like the Force. She can get anyone to do whatever she w-wants. I'm the only one immune to it."

"Only because you have your own brand of the Force," I told him. "How is it that I'm always picking up the check at lunch and paying for all our cab rides?"

"Um . . . you're generous?"

"Right," I said. "Generous doesn't even begin to cover—"

I broke off when there was a tremendous splash and a gasp from Riley.

"Riley?" I asked apprehensively.

"Ow," he answered, his voice full of pain.

"What happened?" I demanded.

I got no answer.

_NTNTNTNTNTNTNT_

_Riley_

I didn't really remember falling, but the moment of panic before falling—the feeling that you get when you're walking up the stairs in the dark and think there's one more step than there is. I barely had time to gasp before I found myself on the ground, my head throbbing. I fazed out for a second, sliding away from the pain, and then everything came back, sharp and painful. I groaned and automatically tried to sit up, but gentle hands pushed me back down. Ben.

"Can you hear me, Riley?"

"Unnh," I answered, trying to push his hands away. I was dizzy and nauseous, and didn't care very much about answering.

"You'll have to do better than that," Ben said, worried.

I swallowed. "Yes, I can hear you. L-let me up." I couldn't quite keep the tremble out of my voice, which I hated.

Ben sighed in relief. "Are you all right?" he asked, moving back and allowing me up. It hurt a _lot_.

"Stupid question," I told him. This was the second time I'd hit my head on the floor, and it hadn't done anything to help my headache. Warm, sticky stuff was sliding down the side of my face, and for the first time I was glad it was dark. Ben would never have let me alone. He had just dragged himself across the wet floor with a broken leg because he heard me gasp; I wondered what he would do if he found out I was bleeding.

"Why did you fall?" Ben asked.

I blinked. "Um, because I l-lost my balance." Could he hear the "duh" tacked on to the end of that sentence?

"I meant, 'What did you fall over?'," Ben corrected himself.

"There's another hole by the wall," I told him, dropping my aching head into my hands and trying very hard not to throw up. "Deeper, I think. N-no water."

"No water?" Ben asked, moving away from me. I heard him crawling through a puddle, and then silence as he inspected the ground. "Riley, you did it!"

"Did what?" I asked, completely nonplussed.

"I think this joins with an adjacent cave. The water's pouring into it, but it's not filling," Ben explained.

"But wouldn't that m-mean we're okay in here, if there's a drain?" I said, not bothering to raise my head.

"Not as fast as the water's rising, Riley."

"Oh. So it's like when your shower is s-sort of clogged."

"Yeah," Ben said. He was probably rolling his eyes.

"Hey, Ben?" I said. "The d-drain in my shower _is_ clogged. You need to fix it."

He was _definitely_ rolling his eyes now. "First thing when we get back," he said. "Now, I think this hole might be big enough for us to crawl through. It'll be tight, though."

"What else is new?" I said, but in fact, the thought made me nervous.

"I'll go first, just to make sure it's okay," he reassured me. "You'll have to bring our supplies over."

"Okay," I said slowly, thinking this might not be such a bad idea; it was definitely better than waiting around for the cave to fill up. But when I moved to get up, my hand brushed my shoe. I froze.

I had broken a shoelace.

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A/N: Another day, another cliffhanger =D

Please tell me what you think!


	4. Chapter 4

A/N: I am not dead, just unbelievably busy. Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has read/reviewed this story so far. Your feedback means so much to me!

A/N 2: Two things about this chapter: 1) I have only driven through Arizona once, so forgive me if my descriptions are inaccurate. I grew up in Colorado, so I am mostly basing the scenery in this chapter on that. 2) I have never written in Abigail's perspective before, so be sure to let me know whether you like it or not!

Disclaimer: If Disney feels like giving me National Treasure, I'll take it. Otherwise, the characters and events of the movies definitely don't belong to me.

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CHAPTER FOUR

_Riley_

Not for the first time, I wondered if Ben and I were the unluckiest people in the world. It was the only explanation I could think of—I mean, who else continually has guns pulled on them, or participates in deadly high-speed car chases, or is always on the run from the police _and_ the bad guys? Besides mobsters, I mean.

Oh, right. Just Ben and me.

And all we had done this time was walk into a cave.

Eating breakfast was probably even hazardous now.

I could hear Ben crawling through the hole, which I realized now was probably more like a little tunnel. It didn't sound pleasant, from some of the sounds he was making. His leg was probably hurting him.

I was scared—really scared—that Ben was badly hurt. I knew that he would never lie to me, but he might even have convinced himself that he was fine. He was almost stubborn enough to pull that off—I had no doubt that his leg would heal itself and the rocks blocking the passageway would fly back up and attach themselves to the ceiling if only will were involved.

The scraping and struggling sounds stopped, and I could hear Ben breathing hard on the other side. "Okay, Riley," he called back. "Send the gear through."

I turned and hefted his soggy backpack into the tunnel. I had to put my knees on the very lip of the hole and stick my head and shoulders in to push the bag to Ben. Feeling even more claustrophobic than I had for the last . . . however long we'd been in here, I was relieved when I felt him take it and pull it out. I passed him my stuff next, and then sat still for a moment, trying to control my breathing.

"You next, kid," Ben called. "It's not so bad."

Wishing I could believe that, I forced myself to stick my head and shoulders back into the hole, and then used my elbows to crawl forward. The tunnel was really tight, and I could feel the walls touching me on all sides. I started breathing harder, trying not to think that I was going to get stuck. Ben kept talking, and I struggled towards his voice.

"You're almost out, Riley. Come on."

Twisting to climb out, I bumped my head on the ceiling, where a chunk of rock protruded. I had to stop for a minute as the world spun dizzily and I lost any sense of which way I was going. Panic set in, and I gasped ineffectually, which hurt my head even more.

Ben must have heard my dilemma, because his hand groped around until it found my elbow. His other hand grabbed me and then he pulled me out, still gasping and shaking, onto the floor on the other side.

"You okay, Riley?" Ben asked.

"Yeah," I lied. My tongue felt really thick, and my voice hurt my head. "You?"

"Yeah." His answer was firm, but he sounded tired. "It's drier in here, at least. We should be okay for a while."

"How l-long until Abby gets back?" I asked. The adrenaline was starting to wear off, and my head felt really heavy.

"I don't know. What's your guess?"

Instead of answering, I leaned up against a wall and closed my eyes, feeling suddenly exhausted. I started to drift off almost immediately, which probably should have worried me, but didn't.

It worried Ben, though. "Riley? You're not going to sleep, are you?" I distantly heard him ask. "Hey, kid! Stay awake, Riley!"

The panic in his voice made me fight unconsciousness for a moment, but I couldn't prevent it from coming. The last thing I felt was his hand on my shoulder, and then everything slipped away.

_NTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNT_

_Abigail_

The speed limit on Highway 85 was 75.

I was going 90, and it still wasn't fast enough.

With one hand, I gripped the steering wheel; with the other, I held my cell phone. My eyes darted back and forth from the road to the tiny screen.

"Come on!" I said aloud, frustrated. The Arizona landscape flashed by me in a red-brown blur, but there was still no reception. Once I got over the last ridge of the mountains, I'd probably be able to connect with the cell phone tower in Ajo. But there were still five more miles between me and a satellite signal. I pressed harder on the gas.

My thoughts were in a jumble. Ben. Riley. Trapped. Dead, maybe. Angry tears burned in my eyes. I'd called to them for ten minutes. My voice was nearly gone. And there had been no answer.

Why was it that disaster followed us wherever we went? This was supposed to have been a relatively relaxing trip. Instead of going straight to California for our vacation, we'd made a detour to check something for Emily. She had recently translated portions of a map that implied the existence of Pueblo Indian ruins in the mountains near Ajo, and as we were already going out west, Ben had promised to look into it. We'd gone up to the old copper mines just to scout out the area, and, not two minutes after we'd poked our heads into the first of the natural caves, the ceiling had fallen in.

That was just our luck. Or Ben and Riley's luck, anyway.

Even if they were both just fine physically, Riley was sure to be panicking. _Oh, Ben_, I thought, _keep the both of you safe until I get there. _

The thought that either one of them was . . .

It was unbearable.

I rounded a bend, hating that I had to brake and waste time. I came out of the curve accelerating like mad, and then I saw the flash of lights in my rearview mirror.

_Thank God! _I thought, and slammed on the brakes, pulling off onto the narrow dirt shoulder. The police car pulled up slowly behind me, and a white-haired officer stepped out into the road, flipping open his notepad. I wished he would hurry. I rolled down my window as he came up to my car.

"Do you have any idea how fast you were going, young lady?" he reprimanded, taking off his sunglasses and scribbling something down.

"As fast as my car would go," I answered honestly. The white head snapped up in surprise, and I hurried to add, "I'm so glad you're here. My husband and our . . . friend, Riley . . . they're trapped up in the mountains. There's no cell reception there. I had to get near enough to Ajo to call . . . I don't know if they're even . . ." I trailed off.

The officer's face, which had been frozen in shock, instantly melted into an expression of concern. I must have looked completely distraught.

"Okay, I'll radio into town for help. Wait here, okay, hon?"

"Of course. Thank you!"

_Hurry_, I begged him silently. _Hurryhurryhurry . . . _

As though he heard me, he returned quickly. "Okay. I've got backup coming. Where exactly did you leave them?"

"It's really remote," I told him.

"I know the area really well, young lady. Been a cop here for thirty-nine years, and lived here before that besides. I just need a place name."

"It was up by the old copper mine. I can show you where," I said quickly.

"All right. You can ride with me."

"Thank you!" I exclaimed, climbing out of the car. We walked back to his police car and I buckled myself into the passenger's seat.

"First time in a cop car?" he asked, turning on the siren and executing a U-turn. We sped up the road at almost the same pace I'd taken on the way down.

"I wish," I told him. Again, he looked totally shocked. "My husband's Ben Gates," I said, like that explained everything.

Which it did.

* * *

A/N: No cliffies =D Oh, wait . . . there was that one in the middle . . . Good? Bad? Please review!


	5. Chapter 5

A/N: THANK YOU to all of my wonderful readers! This chapter is the direct result of your lovely reviews--I felt so guilty for leaving you hanging that I just had to update. You make writing so worth it. =D

Disclaimer: I don't own Disney. I'm not even sitting on half of one percent =D

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CHAPTER FIVE

_Ben_

"Hey, kid! Stay awake, Riley!" I said loudly. I was concerned when Riley's responses had slackened, his words slurring a little, but now I was in full blown-panic mode. When he didn't answer me, I shifted over a little, groping around until I found his shoulder. I shook him gently. "Riley?"

Nothing.

I knew that Riley had hit his head, that he probably had a concussion, but it was obviously worse than I thought. What if the stammering of his words hadn't been purely from fear? What if he was seriously hurt?

What if he had just slipped into a coma?

My heart was pounding much too fast.

It took a moment, but I managed to come back down to a level of relative calm, meaning that "what-ifs" were out and "what-nows" were in. Abigail was coming; I had absolute faith in that. So what now?

Riley was clearly my first priority, and though there wasn't much I could do for him, I was going to do what I could. Thinking quickly, I groped around in the dark until I found one of our packs and started digging through it, stopping when I encountered a very wet blanket . . . wrapped around an iPod. This was definitely Riley's bag, and he had been right earlier—everything was soaked, useless. I pushed his bag away and felt for mine, sighing in relief when I found it and discovered that it was only a little damp. I pulled my blanket out and moved back over to Riley, tucking it around him. Hopefully, it would prevent him from going into shock—if he was that seriously hurt, which I prayed with every fiber of my being he wasn't . . .

The kid was breathing slowly, steadily, and the sound reassured me. _He's alive. Everything will work out. Abigail's coming._

I painfully maneuvered myself to sit against the wall, close enough to Riley that our shoulders touched. If anything changed—if he moved, or shivered, or, hopefully, woke up, I would know instantly.

Comforted by that knowledge, I closed my eyes. As the adrenaline in my system began to wear off, all of the little aches and pains—and the larger ones, as well, made themselves known. My hands were scraped, and I was fairly certain that my temple had been grazed by a falling rock; my arm was badly bruised and probably a little cut up, if the tears in my sleeve and the stiffness of the fabric was any indication. And my leg . . .

My leg was burning, pains stabbing randomly up and down my shin. I was almost positive that I had a hairline fracture—I had gone on enough dangerous expeditions to know what a broken bone felt like, and this wasn't the same. What disturbed me more than the pain was the unpleasant tingling in my foot and ankle, almost like the lower part of my leg was going to sleep. _At least it doesn't hurt_, I reasoned, relaxing.

I was exhausted, and I found myself drifting off to sleep. I struggled against it for a moment—what if Riley needed me?—but eventually gave in. What was a little more blackness in this dark place?

_NTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNT_

_Riley_

Of all the things that humans have ever accomplished, waking up is the singular most outstanding achievement. Like, ever. Especially on a Monday morning, when you have a 6:00 AM flight to Cairo or Paris or Amsterdam. Or when Ben wants to go to the Smithsonian for the _five thousandth _time before it opens. Or when you're trapped in a cave and have a concussion.

Okay, so the concussion thing wins.

The pain came first, splitting my head open and making my eyes water. I gasped a little. For a while, I drifted, trying to escape the pain, trying to go back to sleep, but then I heard Ben's voice, slipping in and out of my comprehension.

"Riley? Are y . . . ake? . . . iley? Come . . . know y . . . can . . . ear me."

And then memory hit. I had the vague idea that I should wake up, to tell Ben not to worry, because he sounded almost panicked. Ben _never_ panicked . . . but the thought slipped away, and I almost went back to sleep again. Wonderful, perfect, god-like sleep.

In the end, though, the pain would not let me relax. The awful pounding behind my eyes dragged me kicking and screaming into full awareness.

"Riley?" Ben asked.

I tried to answer, but all that came out was a sort of pathetic croak, which hurt both my throat and my head.

It must have sounded even worse than I thought, because Ben squeezed my shoulder gently, saying, "Just give it a minute, Riley. Don't try to move or anything, okay?"

Move? I couldn't even open my eyes, and I had absolutely no desire to move any part of my body. The pain was that bad, and it was starting to scare me.

Ben kept talking, his hand still resting on my shoulder. "Just stay awake," he said. "You don't have to talk, okay? Just stay with me. Abby will be here soon."

I swallowed, my throat dry, and tried to form words. "B-ben," I finally whispered, pain shooting up my head. "Thirsty."

"Okay. Give me a second." Ben's hand left my arm for a moment, and then he was back beside me. "Do you think you can hold it?" he asked, and I felt a canteen brush my hand.

"No," I said tiredly. How could I be tired again already? I had just slept.

"That's okay. I'll do it. Tilt your head back a little."

_That_ got my attention. "Don't. C-can't," I mumbled, hoping the words came out right. I dry-swallowed again, and then my stomach lurched. The sudden nausea took me off-guard, and I tried desperately not to throw up. I knew that would only hurt more.

"Riley?"

"Sick," I gasped out. I was shaking with the effort of not puking my guts out.

"Try to breathe more slowly."

I tried to do what he said, but it wasn't working. There was nothing for it. I rolled to the side and threw up, feeling sicker than I had in my whole life. The pain of moving my head made me throw up again.

Ben's hand was on my shoulder the whole time, and when I was done, he helped me sit back up. "Sorry," I whispered.

Ben's voice was firm. "No more apologies, got it? It's not your fault."

"'kay," I answered. I _did_ feel a little better now, at least. Less hazy.

"You probably want that water now," Ben said. The canteen was pressed into my hands, and I was able to take a few painful sips of water.

"Thanks," I whispered. "Abby's not b-back yet?"

Ben touched my shoulder again. "She'll come, Riley. She'll be here," he said. It was the same tone he used back when we had first met, talking about the Templar treasure: _We'll find it. I know we will._

It was impossible not to believe Ben when he talked like that.

* * *

A/N: Let me know how that went! I'll try to get a quick update in for you guys!


	6. Chapter 6

A/N: Finally, the sixth part is ready! Thank you to everyone who reviewed the last chapter . . . I'm so grateful for your feedback!

Disclaimer: If only.

* * *

CHAPTER SIX

_Abigail_

I felt like I was in the way, with the flurry of activity that had sprung up at the entrance to the cave.

At least five cops and a handful of park rangers and construction workers had responded to the police radio call. Cliff—the white-haired officer who had driven me up—came over to where I was standing, moving out of the path of a mini excavator as it was driven up to the pile of rubble blocking the cave.

"Try not to worry too much, hon," he said kindly, putting a hand on my shoulder. "These guys know what they're doing."

I nodded stiffly, not looking away from the cave entrance.

"That was probably a waste of breath, huh?" he asked ruefully. "Of course you're going to worry. You look like you've been in this position before."

I sighed, my shoulders slumping. "Too many times."

Cliff raised a white eyebrow. "Is your Mr. Gates a spelunker or something?"

I almost smiled. "Spelunker, diver, historian, anthropologist, chemist, trouble magnet, you name it," I replied.

When Cliff only looked even more confused, I clarified, "He's a treasure hunter." My voice caught a little, as my mind automatically provided Ben's response to that. _Treasure _protector, _Abigail. _

"What about your friend?"

I took a shaky breath. "Riley's a techie. He knows everything you'd want to know—or _wouldn't_ want to know—about computers." And _Star Wars_, but I didn't say that. It was probably implied.

"What were you three doing up here? Not much treasure in these mountains, unless you're digging for copper."

I nodded. "We were looking for pictograms left by pre-Columbian peoples. This seemed like a remote enough area."

Cliff laughed. "Hon, you could put that on Ajo's travel brochure. Nothing but desert and rock out here. Kinda beautiful, though, if you know what to look for."

I nodded. It_ was_ beautiful, in a way. I could see for miles, and the sky was impossibly vast with no trees to obscure it. The rock was a swirl of rust red and dusty brown.

"Thanks for trying to distract me," I finally said.

Cliff looked slightly disappointed. "I should have known you'd catch on quick."

"Hey, Cliff!" someone called.

"'Scuse me for a sec, Mrs. Gates," he said, walking briskly over to one of the police officers. They had a short, tense conversation, and when Cliff returned, his face was grim.

My chest tightened, and for a moment I forgot to breathe. "What is it?" I asked, my voice thin and breathy.

Cliff sighed. "There's been a bit of a setback. Looks like there's been some flooding."

My panic escalated. "Flooding? You mean, inside the cave?"

"Yeah, hon."

"No," I whispered.

Cliff sounded extremely concerned at my response, grabbing my arm as if to steady me. "Hey, don't give up yet, all right?"

He had no way of knowing that I was thinking of another cave, another torrent of water, another moment of blind panic. Ben, drowning, dying to save my life . . . Riley, fighting me, trying to swim back to save him . . . water closing over our heads . . .

I swallowed hard. "You have to get them out. Now!"

_NTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNTNT_

_Ben_

"Riley?" I asked quietly.

"Hmm?"

"Just making sure you're still awake."

There was a long pause, and then: "Ben?"

"Hmm?"

"Just m-making sure you're still aware of how annoying th-that is."

I smiled a little. "You know what this situation reminds me of?"

Riley groaned. "Not another history lesson," he said, his voice grating.

"Actually, it was a _Lord of the Rings_ reference," I told him, knowing what kind of reaction that would garner.

Sure enough . . .

"_Seriously_?" Riley said, sounding shocked. "That's not even a n-nerd thing, Ben! That's a geek thing!" I heard him shift a little, and the gasp of pain that accompanied the movement. "Ow," he said breathlessly, but before I could ask him if he was all right, he said, "What reference?"

"That cave . . . the one in the mine."

"Moria," Riley supplied helpfully. "Did you read the books, or see the movies? Wait, why did I even ask that? Of course you r-read the books."

I grinned. "Yeah. Did you know that Tolkien wrote them as a response to World War II? The series wasn't meant to be an allegory, but there is a lot of symbolism in the text—the 'shadow in the East' being the most prominent, as a reference to Nazi Germany—"

"Ben," Riley interrupted. "You are _not_ going to ruin LOTR for me, got it? I don't want to kn-know about the history behind the story. I just want to play the RPGs and imitate Gollum in front of Abby, okay?"

"Okay," I said, pleased to have distracted Riley for a while. The tremor had even left his voice, for the most part.

"I should've known you'd turn anything even _remotely_ awesome into a lecture. Remember those Bugs Bunny cartoons?"

I laughed. "You mean the ones plastered with American propaganda?"

"Yeah. Remind me when w-we get back that I'm never watching TV with you again."

I laughed, and a more comfortable silence stretched between us. Then Riley moved again, and there was another stifled cry of pain. My anxiety spiked.

"Stop trying to move," I warned him. "I'm worried about that concussion."

There was a moment of quiet, where all I could hear was Riley's ragged breathing, and then he panted, "Something's . . . digging into my back, Ben. It hurts."

I was in motion instantly, touching his shoulder. "If you sit up, I might be able to move it."

Riley made a negative sound. "Think it's . . . part of the w-wall."

"Then we'll move you."

Another negative sound. "Hurt."

"I know it'll hurt, but you can't keep moving around like you've been doing. The paramedics will have my head." I gently grabbed both of Riley's shoulders. "Sit up a little," I told him.

Riley complied, and I helped him drag himself sideways, settling him against the wall a little further down. For a moment, we both sat silently, panting, and then Riley whispered, "Thanks. What . . . w-was that thing, anyway?"

I felt along the wall until my hands found something smooth protruding from the irregular stone wall. Intrigued, I felt its contours, and then moved back, surprised. "Riley . . . I think it's a carving."

"Of what?"

"I don't know. It feels almost like . . . a face."

Riley grabbed my arm. "Ben, I just thought . . . of something. My iPod."

I suspected he'd never _stopped_ thinking of his iPod, so this must be important. "What do you mean?"

"The backlight. F-find my iPod. It might still . . . work."

"Good idea." I moved around him and dug through his pack, extricating his Nano from a soggy blanket. I fumbled around with it until I found the hold button, and then was nearly blinded by the square of white light as Riley's iPod turned on. "Nice, kid," I said, grinning, and then I saw what was embedded in the wall and covering it, besides. I felt my eyes widen, and my breath caught.

"What?" Riley asked, seeing my expression.

"I think my mom's going to be making you about a thousand chocolate chip cookies, Riley," I said.

Riley moved himself painfully away from the wall, and his mouth fell open. After a moment, he said, "I th-think I'll just take my ten percent."

* * *

A/N: Well, that hopefully got the story moving along a little better. So . . . good? Bad? Please tell me what you think!


	7. Chapter 7

A/N: Chapter seven is finally here! Thank you SO MUCH to all of my readers and reviewers. You make writing so worthwhile!

Disclaimer: I don't own National Treasure . . . just in case that wasn't common knowledge.

* * *

CHAPTER SEVEN

_Ben_

Sometimes I think that life has a way of balancing itself out. You can be having the worst luck of your life one moment, and stumble across something wonderful and completely incredible the next. It had happened to me twice so far—finding the Templar treasure after being left for dead, and discovering Cibola at gunpoint.

Now, it was happening again.

By the light of Riley's iPod, I could make out perhaps the most unusual and unexpected find of all. Carved into the stone wall was a mural of simply gargantuan proportions, stretching from the cave floor to a ceiling so high that it was lost in darkness. The carvings depicted ancient Native American images: eagles, the rising sun, cities carved into cliffs, and most interestingly, people. Each face was unique, protruding from the wall.

What caught my attention, though, was a recessed archway about twenty meters away. The stone lintel above it was carved with symbols both like and unlike Olmec characters, and decorated with carvings so intricate that they seemed impossible.

"Wow, Ben," Riley said softly, and I turned to him with the iPod.

My enthusiasm and curiosity were abruptly quashed as life reminded me that balance worked the other way, too.

When the light fell on Riley, I could see for the first time how badly he was hurt.

Riley was positively white, his pupils much too large in the sudden brightness. Dark blood had matted his hair and was drying on the side of his face, and I could see his chest heaving unevenly with each breath. What shocked me most, though, was the state of his hands. The skin on his palms and fingers was torn and bleeding, and it looked like he had completely ripped off one of his fingernails.

Following my gaze, Riley's eyes widened. "Ow?" he said uncertainly, and I realized that he hadn't even noticed his hands until now.

I felt a physical pain, understanding that his panic had overcome pain in his attempt to dig himself out. "Riley . . ."

He didn't even look up, still staring at his hands with a sort of detached horror. "I . . . don't even feel them," he said, more to himself than me.

I was already kneeling beside him, digging in my backpack for my first-aid kit. I emerged with a roll of bandages and a water bottle, leaving the rubbing alcohol in the bottom of the bag. I didn't want to cause Riley any more pain than was necessary, since help was on the way.

"Let me see," I said gently. Gripping one of his wrists, I inspected his hand. There was a lot of dirt in the cuts, which were still seeping blood, so I opened the bottle and rinsed his fingers and palm as best I could. Riley flinched, and then moaned when the movement jostled his head. "I'm sorry. Just give me a minute," I soothed, sounding much calmer than I felt. I wrapped his left hand in bandages and then moved on to the right. This time Riley just hissed through his teeth.

When I finally moved back, he was whiter than before, his eyes less focused.

"Hey. You still with me?" I asked.

Riley blinked. "What? Oh . . . think . . . so. Th-thanks."

I frowned at his response. I sat down beside him again, touching his shoulder. "Don't go to sleep."

"Won't. Hurts . . ." Riley mumbled, and then his head came up a little. "Why aren't you . . . looking around?" he asked, sounding more lucid.

I almost rolled my eyes. "Riley, you're hurt. I'm not going to leave you here to go explore a cave."

Riley's eyes slid closed. "Oh. Thought this m-might be a book thing."

"What?" I asked, completely nonplussed, and more than a little concerned at the apparent incoherency of that statement.

"Y'know . . . my book. Thought you might be more interested in t-treasure."

It took me a moment to comprehend the meaning behind his slurred speech, but when I did, an almost unbearable guilt swept over me. We'd never actually discussed this before, beyond that brief moment in our search for Cibola. That brief moment where Riley had voiced his unwavering support for me, for my ideas and theories, and his disappointment at my failure to reciprocate.

"Riley . . . I'm so sorry. I know it doesn't make up for it, but I—" But what? I had simply been too wrapped up in my own problems with Abigail, too _busy_ to make time for my best friend. And that wasn't the first time. I had put myself, my obsession with treasure, over my friendship with Riley.

It hurt that he thought I would do that now, that I would abandon him to go look at cave carvings when he was injured and frightened.

Riley interrupted me, re-opening his eyes. "It's okay, Ben. I didn't mean . . . to s-say that. Not thinking straight."

"You don't have to apologize. _I_ should be the one doing that," I said firmly. "Riley, you're my best friend. You're much more important to me than scratches on a rock. Don't ever think otherwise."

"I . . . don't. I trust you, B-ben."

My throat tightened. What had I ever done to deserve that? "No more 'book things,' I promise. If you _ever_ need me, I'll be there." I said.

Riley smiled a little. "Okay. You c-can proofread my sequel."

_NTNTNTNTNTNTNTNT_

Several hours later found us sitting against the wall in the darkness, Riley leaning on my shoulder, his breathing ragged. We were both exhausted, slipping in and out of sleep. I was getting extremely hungry, but at least Riley wasn't suffering from that particular need; the concussion had taken care of that.

Though we were sharing the dry blanket, it was uncomfortably cold in the cave. I was deeply worried about Riley, who was no longer responding to my voice. _Abigail, where are you?_ I thought tiredly.

Almost in answer, I heard a loud crunching noise in the adjacent cavern, and the rush of water. There was a sudden smattering of voices.

Hardly daring to believe it, I listened for a moment longer, and then common sense took over. "Here!" I shouted. "Over here! Help us!"

"Ben Gates? Riley Poole?" an answering voice called.

"Yes! Over here! We're over here!"

"Stay where you are! We're coming for you! Keep talking!"

"There's a cavern adjoining the first one! We're just beyond the wall!" I said helpfully.

"I see the opening. We're coming!"

A new voice joined the first, sounding scared. "Ben? Ben, can you hear me?"

"Yes, Abigail, I hear you!" I shouted.

"Thank God! Are you hurt? I love you, Ben. I love you." I didn't get the chance to respond before she cried, "Riley? Riley, are you okay?"

There was a moment of silence, and then my brain processed her words. The desperation in her voice mirrored my own as I felt Riley's weight against me. Though I had been yelling as loudly as I could, he had not stirred in all this time.

"Riley?" Abigail called again, the panic creeping back into her voice. "Answer me!"

"Riley?" I asked, more softly, jostling his shoulder gently. "Answer me."

Neither of us got a response.

* * *

A/N: So, what did you think? Cliffhangers are evil, aren't they?


	8. Chapter 8

Hey, everyone!

I wish I could give you a really great reason for the EXTREME lateness of this update, like a four-month-long tour of Europe or alien abduction, but honestly I've just been very, very busy. I want to thank each and every person who has read this story, and a very special thank you to those who reviewed. You are all beyond amazing. I hope this chapter does not disappoint.

That being said,

1) I do NOT own National Treasure. I'd never make the release date.

2) Only one more chapter to go after this one!

* * *

CHAPTER EIGHT

_Ben_

"I hate to tell you this, Mr. Gates, but visiting hours are over, and—"

"No."

The nurse, in her tidy purple scrubs, looked torn. "I wish I could let you and your wife in, but it's against hospital policy. I'm really sorry."

I could tell she truly meant it, but there was no way that something as inconsequential as _hospital policy_ was going to keep me from being there if Riley woke up. _When_, I told myself fiercely. _WHEN. _"You don't understand . . ." I said, nearly choking on the words.

Abigail put a comforting hand on my shoulder, but she looked upset, too. Angry, actually. I was surprised at how calm her voice sounded when she spoke. "There's got to be some sort of exception. Ben was just discharged a half hour ago. He hasn't seen Riley at all."

The nurse shook her head helplessly, her reddish curls bouncing. "I'm sorry. I'm not suppos—"

"What's going on here?" a booming voice interrupted, and Abigail visibly relaxed as a white-haired police officer came to stand with us in the hallway.

"Cliff!" she said, sounding relieved. "My husband and I were trying to check up on Riley, but . . ." She gestured at the nurse.

"It's against policy!" the nurse said, sounding terribly upset. "Nurse Geils will have my head."

"Can't you give 'em just a moment, Kelly?" Cliff asked, giving her a kind smile.

"I really wish I could," Kelly began, "but—"

Cliff interrupted her with a wink. "I'll tell Ruth that it was my idea."

The nurse's anxious expression relaxed a little, but she was still twisting her hands. "I . . ."

"You know Ruthie and I go way back. It'll be fine, Kel."

Kelly finally relented. "Oh, all right. But just for a few minutes. Come with me, Mr. and Mrs. Gates."

Feeling incredibly relieved, I got up gingerly from the waiting room chair, trying not to put too much weight on my bad leg. Abigail watched me from the corner of her eye while she thanked Cliff.

Nurse Kelly gave us a moment, and then said, "This way." She turned and started down the hall, walking very slowly to accommodate me and my bulky cast. Abigail placed a hand on the small of my back, unobtrusively steadying me.

It seemed like a very long walk down the hall, both because my leg was throbbing and because I was dreading seeing Riley's injuries. The doctor had informed us of his condition, of course, but it had just been meaningless words: _grade three concussion, increased intracranial pressure, coma. _

I needed to _see_ him.

Abigail must have seen my face, because she reached down to take my hand as Kelly opened the door to Riley's room. "They said he's going to be okay, Ben."

"How do you know?" I said, a little more sharply than I intended.

"Because he's _Riley_. He'll wake up soon, just so he can complain to you about ruining his . . . h-his Converse."

I stopped, hearing the tremor in her voice. It only just then struck me that she had been the calm one throughout this entire ordeal, comforting me and keeping me informed of Riley's condition, running back and forth between the two of us to make sure we were both all right. She had to have been exhausted and worried, and yet this was the first time she was showing any sign of the strain.

It had to have been so much worse for her when the cave collapsed, not knowing if we were even alive.

Without explanation, I pulled her into my arms, and she buried her face in my neck. I could feel wetness trickling onto the collar of my shirt, and held her tighter, whispering the only words of comfort I knew. "Abigail . . . I love you." I stroked her hair softly.

She pulled back a moment later, wiping at her eyes. "I'm just so glad you're okay," she said hoarsely. "We'll get through this, Ben. We always do."

I wanted to believe her, but I still hesitated at the threshold of Riley's room.

Abigail gave me a wan smile. "Go ahead, Ben. I'll be right here, if you need me."

Taking a deep breath, I stepped into the room.

"Ten minutes," Nurse Kelly warned, shutting the door behind me. I barely heard her, all of my attention focused on the person in the bed.

Riley was lying perfectly still, which was frightening in itself. His face was bruised on the left side, and white bandages wound around his head. Hooked up to a worrisome number of monitors and machines, he looked even younger than he actually was.

The entire situation was surreal.

I hobbled over to a chair beside his bed and collapsed into it, only belatedly realizing that I was shaking.

Wanting to touch him, to confirm that it was really Riley lying there, that it wasn't all just a terrible nightmare, I reached for him. His hands were heavily bandaged, so I settled for resting my hand on his shoulder instead. "Riley?" I whispered.

There was no answer, just the steady beeping of the heart monitor, and I lowered my head, fighting back the urge to either hit something or tear up. Things were out of my control now, which I had never been good at dealing with.

"Please be okay, kid."

I sat for the next few minutes in silence, my head bowed, my hand on Riley's shoulder, until there was suddenly a soft sound.

"Riley?" I asked, surprised. I raised my eyes.

He made another indiscriminate noise, and moved his head a little. Then I saw the pain enter his face, and realized he was waking up. "Come on, kid. Open your eyes," I said, trying to make my voice both calm and compelling.

Finally, I saw a glint of blue between his eyelids, and one of his hands moved up to his face. I gently grabbed his wrist, pulling it back down to the bed. "Hey, can you hear me, Riley?"

"Ben?" His voice was confused, slurred.

"Yeah," I said.

"Where . . .?" he whispered, closing his eyes.

This was the moment I'd been dreading. "The hospital."

He didn't react at all like I expected: there was no sudden tension in his features or panicky waver to his voice. "Oh."

Thinking that the pain might be overwhelming him, I said, "Do you want me to get the doctor?"

Riley opened his eyes. "Ben?" he asked again, sounding dazed. "Where are . . . we?"

Fear coiled in my stomach. "We're at the hospital in Ajo. Do you remember what happened?"

"Cave. Dark . . . Cibola . . ." he whispered.

I swallowed. Though I could understand how the two events had gotten confused in his mind, it was still frightening to think that he might have memory loss. "That was months ago, Ri," I said quietly.

"Sorry," he mumbled.

I rubbed his shoulder. "Don't be sorry. It's okay. I'm going to go get the doctor, all right? I'll be right back."

For the first time, Riley looked upset. "No. Your leg . . ."

I nearly smiled, realizing that he was piecing events together. "I'm okay. It was just a fracture and a pinched nerve."

"Don't go," he whispered, clearly fighting sleep.

"Okay. I'll be right here," I promised, pushing the call button instead. "Just stay awake for a few more minutes."

"Feel like you're always saying that . . ." he murmured.

I finally smiled. "That's because I _am_. It would be nice if you could just stay out of trouble for once."

"Impossible, when your best friend's . . . Ben Gates," he said tiredly.

I sobered immediately at his words. "Listen, Riley, I just . . . I mean, I wanted . . . I'm so sorr—"

He interrupted me. "Didn't say it wasn't worth it."

"Riley . . ."

"Ben?"

"Thank you."

"For . . . what?" Riley's eyes closed again as Nurse Kelly and an older woman in yellow scrubs opened the door.

"For sticking with me."

Riley smiled tightly.

"Always," he said.

* * *

A/N: I hope this installment was worth the wait! Please let me know what you thought! Only one more chapter to go.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: Well, here it is . . . the last chapter. Thank you SO MUCH to everyone who has read/reviewed this fic (despite many long waits between chapters). It really means a lot to me that you've stuck with this story!

Disclaimer: I do not own National Treasure. Glad we've cleared that up :)

* * *

CHAPTER NINE

_Ben_

"How are you feeling?" I asked casually, sitting down on the couch and propping my foot up on the table. Though my walking cast was still bulky, it was a lot easier to manage than the old one.

Riley looked up from his laptop, actually making eye contact. "If you ask me _one more time_, I'm telling Abby that you had your feet on the Boston tea table. Her favorite one." His voice was dead serious.

I grinned. "If you don't answer me _one more time_, I'll tell her about our little trip last month to the restorer to fix the _water_ _ring_ you left on her favorite tea table."

Riley, with an exasperated huff, closed his laptop a little harder than necessary. Then, looking contrite, ran his hand over the Apple logo.

I raised an eyebrow. "Did you just _pet_ your computer?"

"No," he said defensively.

"Are you sure? Because I thought I just saw—"

"I'm doing okay, Ben," Riley said hurriedly, going back to my original question. Since that was what I wanted all along, I didn't comment on the abrupt change in subject.

"And when you say 'okay,' you mean . . . ?"

Riley rolled his eyes. "I mean I have a headache, and it's still hard to focus on anything for too long, but I'm _okay_."

Hearing him say it, and actually mean it, was a relief. The past month and a half had been so hard for him. Alternating between frustration, boredom, and simply discomfort, Riley had been completely miserable for the first few weeks, and Abigail and I along with him. The first time he had called for Abigail, in too much pain to do anything but tremble, she managed to calmly give him his medication and sit with him until he fell asleep. Then, when I got home from the grocery store, she cried for nearly a half hour.

And then there were the nightmares.

Though Riley had insisted that he was fine in the beginning, I knew that nights were rough for him. One evening, I came downstairs to get a glass of water and heard him talking in his sleep. At first, it just sounded normal, an indistinguishable muttering that faded in and out. And then, his voice charged with panic, Riley shouted my name. I ran to his room to find him fumbling with the locks on the window, his bandaged hands shaking too much to unlatch them. Quickly, I did it for him. He braced himself against the sill and leaned outside, breathing in big gulps of air. I said nothing, waiting with my hand on his shoulder until he calmed down, and then helped him back to bed when he nodded.

Every night after that, he left the lights on and the windows open, even though it was a hot, sticky summer, and every night I sat with him until he fell asleep. Neither of us ever said a word about it. We didn't have to.

Of course, Riley's recovery hadn't all been bad: Mom had been sending us frequent updates on the dig in Ajo and packages filled with cookies and brownies, and Dad had come up for a couple of weeks. He and Riley got on surprisingly well, swapping stories and telling jokes (mostly about me, from what I managed to overhear). When Dad went home, he surreptitiously left a package on the kitchen counter with the words "FOR RILEY" scribbled on the front in black Sharpie. Inside were a bunch of comic books from the 40s—mostly science fiction cartoons that I recognized from the attic at my grandfather's house. Pieces of Dad's childhood.

Riley really did bring out the best in people.

"Hey, Ben!"

Riley's voice startled me, interrupting my thoughts. "What?" I asked.

"Don't make me ask you if _you're_ okay," he said.

"Not a chance," I answered, as sudden inspiration struck. "Hey, I just remembered that I've got something for you. Give me a minute."

I got up from the sofa and went into the kitchen, my booted foot making a loud _thump_ with every other step. "I hope it's a grilled cheese sandwich!" Riley called after me. I just shook my head, grabbing the package that had come in the mail this morning. I then made a stop in the office to grab the manila envelope from my desk.

Sitting back down on the couch, I handed Riley the package first. "Bet I know what this is," he said, but still tore into it enthusiastically. After crumpling the brown paper into a little ball and throwing it at my head (his aim had certainly improved in the last week), he opened the box to reveal a new iPod Nano. "Sweet!" he said. I gave him a few minutes to unwrap all the various cords and instruction booklets ("What does anyone need _instructions_ for? _Seriously_.") and untwist every little tie keeping things contained. Looking thoroughly pleased, Riley said, "Thanks, Ben."

"Yeah," I said, but I had a better present with me. At least, I _hoped_ I did. "Riley, there's something else . . ." I let my voice trail off as I handed him the envelope.

Sensing the change in my mood, Riley looked at me very seriously for a moment before taking it from my hand. "What is it?" he asked.

"Just open it," I said.

Very carefully, Riley opened the envelope and pulled out the stack of paper. "My manuscript," he said, the words almost a question.

I didn't say anything, waiting for him to look more closely.

When he did, he sat perfectly still for a moment. Then he looked at me. "Ben, I . . ." His voice trailed off. He stared down at the pages, thoroughly marked with red ink. And then he hurriedly wiped at his eyes. "Thank you," he said simply.

"I'm sorry. For before," I said. "I hope . . . I hope you can forgive me. I know this doesn't make up for it, but . . ."

Riley smiled. "Apology accepted. And thanks for reading this one."

"My pleasure, Riley. Really. It's a good book," I told him, meaning it.

Still sounding a little choked up, Riley laughed. "Then why are there so many edits?" he joked.

The solemnity of the moment successfully broken, I laughed, too. "I'm not going to let my best friend butcher the English language."

"Butcher? What do you mean, 'butcher'?" Riley complained, sounding suddenly affronted.

"You can't end sentences with prepositions!" I defended myself.

"Why not? That's a stupid thing to worry _about_," he shot back, a mischievous gleam in his eyes.

"You said that on purpose," I complained.

"You can't prove that," Riley said, flicking a twist tie from his iPod packaging at me.

"Riley!" I protested, but not before he'd gotten off a second shot.

Just then, Abigail walked in. Riley's tie sailed through the air and hit her in the forehead. She stood stock still for a moment, looking surprised. Then, her eyes narrowing, she said, "What's going on? Where did that come from?"

Riley looked at her innocently. "I dunno. Must be Ben's fault. But thanks for proving me right, Abby. _On_ and _from_ are perfectly useful prepositions to end sentences _with_."

"You just did it again!" I complained, as Riley dissolved into laughter.

Abigail caught my eye, and an unspoken message passed between us. Yes, Riley was going to be all right. And yes, our friendship was fine again.

In fact, it was even closer than _before_.

* * *

A/N: Good? Bad? Worth the wait? Please let me know. I adore reviews!


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